


Shorelines and rib cages

by TotemundTabu



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Begging, Eating Disorders, F/F, Fluff and Smut, Past Abuse, Ramsay is His Own Warning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-27
Updated: 2018-06-27
Packaged: 2019-05-29 16:00:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,459
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15076667
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TotemundTabu/pseuds/TotemundTabu
Summary: AU in which after Ramsay's abuse, Jeyne Poole goes to live with Theon and Alannys and develops a fondness for Asha





	Shorelines and rib cages

**Shorelines and rib cages**

 

* * *

 

 

_I give you something sweet each time_

_you come inside my jungle book._

_Or is it just too good?_

_Don't say you'll stay, 'cause then you go away …_

 

* * *

 

 

The waves washed her skin with brackish salt dust and coldness.

She shivered, breathing in, a smile slowly rising on her lips.

It was chilly and moist in the Iron islands, a chaffing wind carving through her skin, and gently slapping the wet tunic against her body. She let the waves of the undertow almost trick her feet, slipping the wet sand from under them, just to find her back, later, with a gushing spurt that kissed her up to the navel, blessing her where she was once torn.

Harlaw had taken a homely familial scent, just as Winterfell had lost its.

It was her place now.

Her glance ran to the stones and the cliffs, to the little fields – once flourishing forests now ghosts to the Ironborns’ need of ships – where the ponies were to feed themselves. 

Seagulls cracked their lungs in the far away glaucous sky.

There was peace in those broken waves and distant space. There was peace in the rains that knocked on her window.

Wex ran to her, his skinny legs almost betraying him and making him trip over the sand, his shapeless breath dragging shallow sounds from his mouth. He reached her and tugged on her skirt, once and twice, until Jeyne showed him a kind smile and murmured, “Yes, Wex?”

The boy rose his nose proudly and then put his hands on his hips, his wrists twisted inward, and made an angry expression.

Jeyne smiled, “Is Lady Harlaw awake?”

Wex nodded profoundly.

“And she desires my presence, does she not?”

Wex nodded again and smiled.

“I’ll come. - she promised, then looked at the sea again – Is lord Greyjoy with her?”

Wex shrugged his shoulder and made a grimace of annoyance.

Jeyne chuckled, “Are you still upset with lord Greyjoy for beating you at chess, Wex?”

The boy gave a little tilt of his head and eyes, meaning Jeyne could be close to the truth but he planned not to confirm it.

“You’re as proud as he was, and twice as stubborn. - she commented, not harshly, but almost amused, while walking back to the castle – I think this may be why you both enjoy each other’s company so and yet bicker so often.”

Wex observed her, then he observed the sprays and smoke from the sea.

He looked at her, inquisitive, then – There was curiosity in his bright eyes, but he didn’t dare to ask.

Jeyne sighed and smiled at him, “I’m sure queen Asha will remember to get you that chain mail she promised.”

Wex lit up, and Jeyne smirked at him, as they returned to Harlaw’s Ten Towers and reached the Lady Alannys’ room; she had grown healthier by the day and was fixing up her hair in a black pearl net and staining her cheeks with a reddish seashell paste. Asha told them the old lady had struggled with her health and energy, that the anguish and the spleen had taken over her for years, making her almost a ghost of herself, but what Wex and Jeyne had known of her was a bold, headstrong, fierce general, dressed in gowns of silk. 

It was impossible for them to conceive the idea that that woman had been anything less than a five feet tall thunderstorm any day of her life. 

Asha, though, still seemed to worry about her, and having in Harlaw not only her brother Theon, but also Jeyne to look after her mother did soothe her anxiety some.

Lord Theon knocked on the door behind them and entered the chamber with a thin smile – he still hid his teeth or lack of wherever possible, though his beauty had returned, with just some thin, leftover scars on the skin, but his hair was as black as nightfall again. 

“Mother. - he said, softly, tenderly and she turned to him – Asha sent a raven, she’ll be here in the afternoon, currents allowing.”

“I sure hope so. - she cleared her voice and moved to her son, or her baby boy as she still called him when he wasn’t in the room or at night when she, in delirium, would forget he had returned to her – There, come with me for a walk around the walls.”

Wex moved forward, offering a cane and the woman glared at him.

“What do you take me for, boy? An old hag? I can move my hips just fine, thank you, pushed three boys and a girl out of these.”

Wex looked at the ground, bewildered and embarrassed by the notion being thrown in his face.

Jeyne sucked her lips, amused but with a pang of guilt, and her eyes met lord Theon’s.

Lord Theon had been kind to her, taking her back with him to Pyke and then, after the kingsmoot called for Asha’s rule, bringing her to Harlaw. Jeyne had for a moment thought that, perhaps, he had planned to make of her his saltwife, but he hadn’t.

Not that she would have minded, in a way. Theon had saved her from Ramsay and delivered her to safety and shelter. He was kind to her, and a smart, compassionate man, whether he let others see it or not. His missing toes or fingers mattered none to her or the women whom he had taken since his return.

But… she had taken a liking to someone else.

And while she knew it would have never been more than a whispered secret and a sweet, honeyed series of moans between the stones of Harlaw, it was the tenderest beam of joy in her heart since it had started.

And Theon could recognize it. “I felt it once”, he had told her enigmatically.

Lady Alannys held her son’s arm and pinched his cheeks, as if he were still a babe, the dark stubble didn’t seem visible to her despite it all. “You got a bit of weight. - she commented, chuckling – You’ll end up like your uncle Rodrik this way.”

“Aren’t I too charming for that?”

“Hush! If he heard you!”

Theon turned to Jeyne and Wex, “A light storm may come soon, don’t play on the shore too long, and if you see my sister’s ships, please, give order to prepare for her.”

Jeyne nodded.

“I expect her to be accommodated in the Widow’s Tower. - Theon said, hardly avoiding to smirk – Near your chambers, Jeyne, so you may be of help with whatever she would need during her stay.”

Jeyne nodded. Her ears turned red, as Wex noticed.

Ten Towers had become home soon to her, but it was when Asha visited that it felt like her own more than everything.

“Come on, mother. - Theon smiled at her – Let’s go to the Book Tower to pester uncle Rodrik.”

Her eyes gleamed mischievously, “I’ve changed my mind, you’re all your uncle Aeron.”

As they left, a delicious wind took Jeyne and Wex by surprise, knocking at the glass windows.

Jeyne smiled and rushed to the balcony of the lady’s room, her grin getting wider with joy, feeling the fresh wind caressing her face. It tasted like freedom.

And spring.

Finally.

 

*

 

Jeyne Poole’s lips curled up, while her hands ran on her belly.

Her clothes didn’t fit well again and she found herself smiling.

She remembered Ramsay starving her, leaving her to eat just rats, or dogs’ scraps. He once, while thrusting into her mercilessly, had bent to her ear and whispered of his previous wife.

How she ate her own fingers.

Desperate, hungry woman.

He wondered if she would have done the same. Or if she would rather meet his dogs and let them play with her, “as the bitch you are” he said.

She ended up agreeing. For bread.

For some mouldy, soggy bread.

That was the price her dignity and body had come to. Shame had carved itself a place in the marrow of her bones that day.

But she promised herself to survive.

She had to.

When she arrived at Harlaw, weighting like a small, wet sparrow, she had hated it.

The way her bone stuck out and tensed over the skin, the way her pale fingers looked like naked, empty tree branches in winter, the way sitting hurt her bottom because her hips had no flesh on them. She hated it with every fibre of her being, seeing her body reduced to an altar, a monument, to Ramsay’s power over her.

And yet, eating and filling her stomach, at first, had been impossible.

She would tremble, cry, feel nausea shaking her, remembering him thrust up in her … 

“I’m not allowed to...”, she would cry. Theon tried everything for weeks, before Asha took the situation into her own hands.

Another smile kissed Jeyne’s lips curled.

Asha had helped her more than anyone ever had. Not by doing anything much, really, more than existing.

She would sit near Jeyne at every meal, jape and tell her of Theon’s childhood, or of pirate tales, she’d take her on walks on the cliffs and reefs and teach her to fish, and bring her peaches and plums every time she could, coming from the south.

“Had a lover once. - she said, bitterly – A boy. He couldn’t grow a stubble, just peach fuzz.”

Jeyne sucked her lips.

“Do you miss him ever?”

“Sometimes. - Asha admitted, licking her lips bitterly – The war was… unkind to him. - her eyes then glanced to Jeyne, caressed her, brushed her skin without touching it, without daring to – Other times, though, I forget of him already.”

Jeyne’s fingers trembled, her lips courted the soft flesh of the sweet peach, and as a rivulet of juice fell from the corner of her mouth, she licked it back.

She then swallowed.

“I wish I could forget.”

Asha frowned, “Who doesn’t let you?”

“You’ll think me weak, if I say.”

Asha scoffed, a little smirk coming to her lips as she shook her head.

“I wouldn’t think ill of you for anything in the world.”

Jeyne sucked her lips and squeezed her skinny hands, “Myself, my lady…. - she almost gasped – My queen, I’m sorry.”

“Go on.”

“I fear, if I forget, if I let myself eat and … disobey, if I live like he is gone, like it’s real, then he will return and find me.”

“And punish you?”

Jeyne nodded.

Asha’s hand held hers – it was a strong hand, big, skin chaffed by wind, unsoft, and yet it felt kind.

“He is gone. Stannis Baratheon and Jon Snow took his sick head off that neck of his.”

“He is still somewhere. - she whispered, almost angry, seeing she was not believed, tried of benevolent disbelief, she knew how it sounded but no, it was too much for her to accept sounding like a naive child when she had lost that privilege long before she had to – He is in the water served in cups, which makes ripples and riddles, and he is in the dirt under my fingernails when I sink them in my own flesh. He sits in me the whole time.” 

Asha frowned.

Her hand held Jeyne’s tighter.

“Don’t let him sit then. Give him no space.”

Jeyne gave a breathless chuckle, her eyes wide and lucid, “He takes it.”

“You can kick him out, unhorse him, let him off the saddle.”

Jeyne did let out a weak smile that day.

“You ironborns are made of storms-”, she remembered having thought; but instead she said, “Comfort is not your strongest skill, is it?”

Asha chuckled.

“I couldn’t afford to keep softness much. - she admitted – But I wish I had now.”

Jeyne moved her hand from Asha’s grasp, then to hold it back again.

“Tell me another story.”

“Of pirates?”

“Of you.”

Asha nodded, but then put the big wooden spoon into her food and raised it to Jeyne’s pink lips.

“Only if you finish your meal.”

“What am I? - Jeyne laughed, crystalline and glimmering again, not with the fearful voice of ashes that made Asha sad – A child?”

“I’m not fond of children’s company. - Asha admitted – I quite hope to adopt some of Theon’s loins as the heir. - she mumbled – But, I suppose, if the child is not mine and as pretty as you, I can make an exception.”

Jeyne scoffed, but put her mouth against the spoon, opened it and tasted the food.

She breathed fully now, caressing her belly and breast, how they came back, how her cheeks filled up and how she was now a woman and no more Ramsay’s doings’ ghost.

Then she shivered, also remembering that day Asha spoon-feeding her, and then kissing her hastily and abruptly on the lips.

Her fingers skimmed gently between her thighs.

Oh, well, she had anyway to take off the gown to make it bigger, hadn’t she?

 

*

 

When the ship arrived, Jeyne felt a fever dancing through her fingers as if the stars had decided to burn and pop on her nerves. She smiled, a weird frenzy took her for an instant and she almost forgot to keep calm.

Lord Theon put a hand on her shoulder, as to remind her of Lady Alannys presence, gods bless him, and Jeyne stayed still, smiling, as Asha approached, leather armour on her chest, her short hair wet with sea foam and storm, and on her belt an axe and a sword, both heavy, that made her hips swing slightly, as she moved to the seat.

Her name trembled on Jeyne’s lips.

“Brother! - Asha yelled, grinning – Don’t you look fancy, all dressed up like a coquettish lady.”

“Stop goading him...”, Lady Alannys warned.

“Let her. - Theon let out an almost toothless smile, proud as he was of his newly dark hair and stubble and his strength – She’s yapping because she’s in a good mood, aren’t you, sister?”

Asha nodded, head up, proud.

“Had a fun ride in Dorne, the spices will get us a good sum.”

Lady Alannys rose an eyebrow, “With which you may get enough soap to get the seaweed and salt out of your hair. - she scoffed – Go take a bath before dinner, I will not have you fill this place with shells and dornish sand.”

Theon looked at her, then at Asha, “I know the confrontation with me makes her look like a dried sheep under salt, mother, but I’m afraid if we don’t feed Asha, she’ll end up eating poor Wex here.”

Asha would have wanted to comment on how her brother had returned to being cheeky after all, but she didn’t plan to fight.

She looked at Jeyne, a quick glance, then smirked.

“No, mother is right, I’ll take a bath and then join you. Let my men in for some ale and fish, though. - then she bit her lips and grinned – Jeyne, come with me. I’ll need you to prepare it.”

Lady Alannys rolled her eyes to the sky, “Couple years as a queen and she can’t bathe herself no more.”

Seeing them leave, Theon bent slightly, whispering in his mother’s ear, “Don’t push her around too much…”

“That girl flatters her too much. - Alannys glanced at her son – Don’t doubt a mother’s knowledge.”

“You would scare me, didn’t I know I’m your favourite.”

“We will see if you shall keep this opinion when you have a wife.”

 

*

 

The light was brittle and bitter, moonrays fracturing on the dark pool of the lukewarm water.

Asha laid into it, eyes closed, back resting against the stone border, while her skin shone wet on the surface from the bath, and sticky with oil. She breathed slow, her little chest swollen with shallow breaths, and her eyes focusing out of the window.

Jeyne was sitting behind her, moving her fingers through the hair, caressing them, keeping Asha’s head on her lap, putting oils in the short, chopped black curls.

She hummed a low song.

“Do you miss the north, sometimes?”

“As much as normal, I suppose. - she let out a small smile – But there was little for me left there.”

“Hm...”

Asha’s glance glided over her, following the ribs of candlelight on her soft silky skin. She moved her fingers and caressed it, fingertips brushing gently, letting a wet line draw the trenches for her heart to sink in.

Shorelines kissed by waves and rib cages filled with love had drifted through her and left her filled with hunger.

“I’ve missed you.”, Asha mused.

Jeyne kissed her wet hair, looking even darker, liquid darkness, damp with water.

“I’ve missed you too.”

Asha smiled, closing her eyes and breathing in the scent of her hands.

“Your legs are softer.”

“Got some weight back. - Jeyne confessed – I sometimes wonder… if I’m becoming how I was supposed to be.”

“What do you mean?”, Asha frowned, eyes still closed.

“Before the war… I was pretty, you know?”

“You are pretty still.”

Jeyne rolled her eyes. “Stop trying to flatter me, you have no need to.”

“Do you know me as someone who flatters generously or as someone who’s blunt?”

Jeyne’s lips curled up and then she pushed Asha in the water, cleansing her hairs from the oils. Asha chuckled, bubbles reaching the surface, and then emerged, shaking her head like a mastiff trying to brush off the wetness.

“You should join me while it’s still lukewarm.”

Jeyne stood up from the stone bath and dried her hands, “How did you miss me?”, she asked, nervously.

A smirk came up on Asha’s lips.

“Why don’t you ask things directly?”

Jeyne could feel him still sometimes.

His breath on her skin, licking her, making her feel slimy and dirty.

She could almost feel him inside at times.

She swallowed a shallow gulp, “Did you enjoy someone’s company?”

Asha let out an enigmatic, bitter grin.

“A boy or a girl in every port… - she mumbled – Except right now, the only port I want to visit is here.”

“And then you deny being a flatterer.”, Jeyne sucked her lips pinker and damp.

“You really don’t think highly of yourself, do you?”

Asha pulled her, despite the gown, in the water, her hands running on her face and waist, keeping her close, and yet allowing Jeyne not to feel caged.

Jeyne cursed, laughed, the water pulling the gown attached to her skin, and yet the drops on her face, fresh and tender, and the fired kisses Ashas would pepper on her face melted her resistance. She smiled, laughed against Asha’s lips and welcomed her tongue in, feeling it fill her mouth up.

She moaned in the kiss, closing her eyes, pushing against Asha’s mouth.

She felt her teeth part and welcome her back in.

Warmth leaped in her heart and through her thighs.

Jeyne smiled against the kiss, throwing her arms around Asha’s neck and pulling her in; Asha’s hands drove under the wet skirt, finding her legs writhing, waiting.

Jeyne’s voice twisted and trembled in the ghost of a moan.

It melted in Asha and their voices became one.

 

*

 

Jeyne was laying on the bed on her stomach, passing between her fingers seashells that had rolled out of Asha’s coat.

“I don’t know why you care for them. - she mumbled, fixing her boots up again – It’s full of fucking seashells here.”

Jeyne hesitated, then smiled, lost in the white perlaceous film over them.

“I’m not used to that yet, I guess.”

Asha bit her bottom lip, looked at her.

Naked as she was, skin of silk, the colour of honey diluted with milk. She felt voracious and cruel, hawk over a poor rabbit.

The sheets were resting softly, covering just part of Jeyne’s bottom, while her calves and back were exposed. She let her feet dance in the air.

She did look like a woman, now.

And yet, Asha still felt like she was preying on a crumbled victim, on bones trembling in the night.

She breathed out, sighing.

“Don’t you get bored here?”

Jeyne turned, frowning, “I can’t really afford to. - she smiled – You have no idea how often Wex and Theon manage to fight. - she played with a seashell which was curved, it looked like the drapery of a statue, but finer, more delicate, more fragile, and then spikes rode on its spine – And your mother is teaching me a lot, to play the harp and the bells...”

“Well, she never could to me. - Asha snorted – Having an actual daughter is by all means a new experience for her.”

Asha picked the seashell from Jeyne’s hands and placed it gently on her ear.

“You can hear the sea...”, she murmured.

Jeyne smiled, hearing it, the mellow bellow of the waves calling to her through the darkness of the seashell spiral.

“I can.”

Asha’s finger ran through Jeyne’s long, brown hair.

“Will you think of me, hearing it?”

The corners of Jeyne’s mouth trembled.

“Don’t I always?”

Asha blinked, her hand then slowly descending, caressing Jeyne’s deer neck. Her skin was so soft, caressed by perfumes more than the chaffed slaps of the sea breezes.

“You could come with me. If you want.”, Asha whispered, not looking her in the eyes.

Jeyne frowned, squinted.

“And do what? A boat is no place for me. I’m not like you.”

“We could… - her fingers traced Jeyne’s shoulder blades, then slipped and descended through the hill pit in the middle of her back – Travel the seas together.”

Jeyne raised her eyebrow and let out a bitter chuckle.

“They will know, then. - she said, tired – About us.”

Asha scoffed, “My men won’t judge, they know me and know a woman not to lose when they see one.”

Jeyne shivered.

“And be what? Your raided salt wife?”

Asha gulped dry.

“It’s already quite shocking for the Iron Islands to have a queen, the last thing I need is making them decide I need a rock husband.”

Jeyne shook her head.

“I’ve been married once.”

“It’d be different.”

“I don’t want to be a whore on deck, Asha. - she bit her bottom lip, rolling out of the sheets – I have a place here. You can visit and I’ll have still something if you stop to.”

Asha groaned, sitting on the bed, legs spread wide, a careless offended expression on her face, a pout riding her lips.

“You act as if I wouldn’t have freed you.”

Jeyne smiled, rolled to her and laid her head on Asha’s shoulder, resting on it.

“I know you would have.”

“Then?”

“You comforted me… helped me… - her fingers traced Asha’s mouth – You’ve been more than a mother, more than a lover. You mended my wounds and… - she gulped down – You know.”

Asha’s eyes glanced on her chest and then down, between her legs.

“I do. - a little grin, a smirk that was all hers and her brother’s – Then why not coming with me?”

“Because if I come with you, you will really be all I have. - she sighed, kissed Asha’s shoulders – I hate waiting, I hate not feeling you each liquid moon and each dirty sunrise, but… at least, here, if you got bored of me, if you forgot of me or came to hate me, I’d have Wex and Theon and your mother too and the cats that live around the cliffs… something, someone to distract my ache with.”

Asha’s eyes caressed her, studying her as if she was the sea.

And equally in her eyes were reflected a respectful awe and a voracious need to grasp.

“I could never get bored of you.”

“You say so now… - Jeyne flinched, twitched, fidgeted – But time washes away everything. What do you know you won’t meet a sweeter girl or boy, change your mind…”

Asha let out a sour chuckle.

“You are stubborn for such a delicate thing.”

“That’s how you don’t break.”

Asha blinked slowly, her fingers teasing Jeyne’s chestnut bush. She kissed the lagoon where the hip melted in the thigh, her lips brushing gently the slow hills of her inner skin, then sniffed the hairs, her sweet womanhood – Jeyne’s hips arched, as she bit her bottom lip, muffling an inviting gasp and a tender chuckle.

Jeyne breathed the brackish scent of Asha’s skin, and bent towards her to kiss her hair, as Asha’s lips peppered kisses over her inner thighs and lips.

Jeyne arched her back, pushing against her in slow waves, as to call her closer, urge her to finally trap her clit in her mouth or tease it with her ravishing tongue.

Asha chuckled against the slit, her warm breath tickling, making Jeyne’s stomach twitch from the greedy haste. Her breath faltered, squirmed.

She could feel it pooling in the deepest part of her stomach, in the lagoon of her flesh: she had missed Asha. She had missed those pleasures staining the sheets more with the stench of a brothel than of thalamus.

And still, equally sweet. Sweeter, even, because she knew every time Asha came back to her it was choice and not obligation.

Her half-lidden eyes blinked slowly and she murmured, her voice melted flames, “… please, my queen.”

Asha chuckled at that coy slyness she had come to love and, with a smirk, moved her lips on Jeyne’s clit, brushing against the tip of the pearl with her lips, ever so gently, ever so madly.

Jeyne threw her head back in anticipation, and when Asha’s tongue went on her clit, licking it, teasing it, in the sweetest of tortures, Jeyne gasped, rutting her hips, writhing under her.

Asha’s tongue lapped her devotedly, as if she found every drop of her honey sacred.

Jeyne could feel her body crying in bliss at that contact, the way Asha’s tongue painted her, playing on her tip with delicate obsessiveness. It was rivers of fire, wetting her, drowning her stomach in heat.

She arched, bit her lips, but soon her jaw clacked agape and her voice came free and undone in a mess of ecstasies.

Thorns would grow in her throat as her voice grew thinner and weaker, moan after moan.

Pressure and need erupted through her, nerves alight, groin begging.

She pushed her fingers in Asha’s head of hair, pushing – keeping – her against her pulsing cunt, hungry for more, for longer, she felt it building in her, the need to shoot pleasure.

Arousal ignited her clit at every soft, intense lick. Asha moaned, muffled against her hair, her whole mouth sucking her now as if she could drink the bliss out of her.

She could feel Asha’s chin press against her slit, as if she could slam herself through it.

Jeyne welped then, squirmed, her hips jumped.

Asha’s bold tongue was restless, relentless, finding the bundle of delightful spots that would throw her off the cliff, tormenting the small hem between her eager pink tip and the shy hood covering its root.

She screamed, cried. “There, there, gods…”

Her chestnut hair rolled in rivers over the pale silk pillow; Asha would have loved the sight, but it was the thick, dense scent of her hairs driving her hungry. The strong, murky scent of arousal was leaking off Jeyne’s womanhood.

Her cheeks were stained thulian, her lips aching wet with moans and dry from panting.

Daring, absurd heat leaped through her from her aching sweet kernel.

Jeyne jolted, her legs trembling, but Asha grabbed them closer, pushing close and against, keeping her still, before riding with her tongue in diabolical circles on the rim between Jeyne’s hood and clit, just then to include them again in her wicked game; Jeyne moaned silent, her jaw fully open in the most outrageously obscene expression, as her hips bucked, thrust against Asha’s wide tongue.

Jeyne’s eyes rolled to the back of her head, her lips quivering.

She could feel Asha’s smirk against her, while her tongue lapped her whole, driving her insane, scorching and wet and perfect. A storm of white-hot pleasure washed over her and she screamed mute.

Her fingers pushed Asha harder, almost suffocating her against her dark bush, nails digging into her scalp as the pressure grew through her, begging for release. Her moans became even more incoherent and panted, unravelled senseless words, puddles of gasps.

Asha sucked her, then.

Intense, desperate for her taste.

Jeyen rose her mouth, arching, jerking. Her teeth sunk in her bottom lip, as she lost herself in a wine-less inebriation.

Frenzy pushed in her and she came, without another shout, without any strength, undone against Asha’s eager tongue.

Soon she felt overwhelmed, sensitive and raw, but Asha was still licking and she, shivering in the thrill of the afterglow, shook her head, almost in a beg.

And then she felt them, Asha’s fingers sliding in her, claiming her, sinking up to the knuckles in her pulsing, drenched cave.

Asha raised from her cunt, licking her lips, a victorious grin on them, while she moved slowly inside Jeyne’s welcoming heat. Jeyne whined, sucking her bottom lip, then a moan slipped from her mouth, as Asha’s third finger entered and they curled inside her.

Asha moved closer, kissing Jeyne’s cheek, while moving her fingers back and forth, without exiting, just pressing inside her gentle roof, curling until she found the soft spot that made Jeyne jolt and jerk.

“Do you want your queen to make you come again?”

Jeyne nodded, almost crying, throwing her head back.

Asha added a fourth finger, stretching her wet walls. Her knuckles pushed, almost bruising blissfully her entrance and Jeyne squirmed.

Asha’s movements were slow, too slow, cruelly so, forcing Jeyne into a frustrated hunger, making her buck and ride against her hand, whining desperate.

She cried.

Asha smirked, “Beg for it, baby.”

Jeyne’s voice twirled and twitched acute; Asha could feel her walls crave and cling, holding her tighter than ever, swollen and electric, as she pushed and pressed her sweetest button.

“Faster...”, she cried.

“Faster what?”, Asha raised an eyebrow.

Jeyne almost felt like biting her smile off, instead she sucked her lips and swallowed her pride, ecstasy flapping through her ignited nerves, too powerful for her to control her wanton moans.

“Fuck me faster! Harder! - Asha’s fingers quickened her rhythm – Yes, yes, rougher!”

“Is this how you ask?”, Asha mocked, while still slamming into her spot, moving her curled fingers, rubbing the smouldering silk of her flesh.

Sweat ran down Jeyne’s back, iced desire, sour honey of need.

“My queen! - she shouted, closer, lust driving her beyond the edge – Please, my queen, fuck your stone wife well. - she panted – Break me with your hand-”

Her needy wanton words had worked.

Asha’s hand rushed, thrust into her rougher, pressed her harder and faster. Jeyne slammed her hands on her mouth, trying uselessly to muffle her own screams.

Asha’s knuckles slid into her drenched cunt and she welcomed them with a yelp and a delighted moan.

Heat was pooling again, her insides felt the most thrilling, rapturous fire.

When Asha touched her there, she could feel it everywhere: it echoed until the depth of her snatch, it rode on the back of her clit, it distilled pure pleasure in her spine. She was pumping and wringing the orgasm out of her, dragging it from the deepest part of her.

Jeyne’s legs trembled, her thighs shivered, her head dizzy with a fever she couldn’t extinguish.

It built and then it exploded out, spraying in a crystal clear squirt, flooding out of her.

Jeyne moaned, high-pitched to the point of madness, coming, cleaning around Asha’s hand, that had to push and pump harder to keep fucking her through the orgasm.

She came and came, drenching Asha’s whole tunic, twitching in delight all around the fingers, milking her sated.

It was only after the umpteenth squirt, as Jeyne felt close to fainting – her eyes rolled back, her lips deliciously parted, that Asha stopped.

She dragged even the afterglow so long and fulfilling that Jeyne lazied in a twitched fever.

Waves had clashed through her and her transparent sea had erupted.

She glanced at Asha, who was looking at her, elated and enchanted, in awe and delight.

Asha bent and kissed her forehead.

“Good girl, came so well for me.”

Jeyne let out a weak, bewitched smile. Shy, all of a sudden.

Asha, instead, chuckled.

“What is so funny?”, Jeyne asked, frowning.

Asha’s fingers caressed her slit, her grin widening at Jeyne’s shivers.

“And you think I’d get tired of you.”

She kissed Jeyne’s lips, gently, then voracious, wildly, just to part again and leave her hungry, lips parted and waiting for her, questioning and needy all at once.

“You’re my shore and my sea.”, Asha whispered on the ravine of Jeyne’s lips.

And Jeyne felt something absurd.

And stupid and that she promised herself not to feel again.

The joy of a belonging without chains.

 


End file.
